


The Star Wars Fic - SleepyBois + Beeduo AU

by queenisofweenis



Category: DSMP - Fandom, DreamSMP, sleepybois - Fandom
Genre: AU, AlternativeUniverse, DSMP, DreamSMP - Freeform, Ph1lza - Freeform, Philzaminecraft - Freeform, Ranboo - Freeform, Starwars - Freeform, TechnoBlade, Tommy - Freeform, TommyInnit - Freeform, Tubbo - Freeform, beeduo, mcyt - Freeform, philza - Freeform, shortstories - Freeform, techno, tubbo_ - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-27 13:01:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30123147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenisofweenis/pseuds/queenisofweenis
Summary: I really like Star Wars and I really like these streamers- put 'em together?
Kudos: 1





	The Star Wars Fic - SleepyBois + Beeduo AU

**Author's Note:**

> \- The ages are changed just a little for storytelling/logic purposes.

"Oh, you piece of shit!"

The underground concrete hangar, usually filled with the sounds of crowds talking and whirring machinery, was pierced by the annoyed shouts of an upset blonde adolescent. A few heads turned to the boy, who was bent over inspecting his X-Wing.

"Son of a bitch!" he cursed again, slightly more muffled. He pulled his hand out from the works, his dirt-smeared fist wrapped around a large, bent silver rod. With the removal of the rod came a series of loud clangs caused by several pieces of the ship's inner workings to fall to the ground.

"Shit!"

Looking down the row of aircraft to the mechanic's station, he stuck his hand with the piece of metal into the air.

"Oi, Tech!"

A young man with dirty blonde hair poked his head out from behind a disassembled R2 unit, readjusting his glasses to deliver an irritated glare.

"Yes, Thomas?" he asked, standing up from the floor.

"I told you to stop calling me that, Tech," the younger of the two stalked over, tossing the scrap onto the elder's workbench and wiping his hand on his orange flight suit.

"And I told you, Thomas, to stop calling me 'Tech,'" he grumbled.

His deep voice somehow projected incredibly clearly, something that unnerved most that talked to him. But the aggravated 18-year-old was unfazed.

"Well it's your job, innit? Kinda funny that it's part of your name, I'd say."

It took the mechanic a large amount of self-restraint to keep from smacking the kid in the head with a droid arm. 

"Fine then, _Techno_. And it's Tommy, you massive-"

"What did you need me for?" Techno interrupted.

Tommy rolled his eyes.

"-dickhead. Anyways, my landing gear's gone all busted. Stupid piece of- and I need it fixed. Like, _now_ , please."

"Tommy, you know how long it takes to fix landing gear. If I recall, you scraped your _last_ X-Wing's bottom half clean off on the face of a mountain."

"Well, desperate times call for desperate measures! I'd like to see you try and escape three TIE fighters when you're hanging upside down and speeding towards a-"

"I'll order the parts from Incom before the day is out," Techno cut Tommy off again, already wanting to go back to his R2 unit.

"Awh, but that means they won't be here for, what, three days?!" Tommy was the most impatient person Techno knew.

"They have to be untraceable when they fly it out here. Honestly, you of all people should know this, Tommy."

"But we have a scouting assignment in two days and I like those, Tech!" Tommy protested.

"We have extra ships, Tommy, I don't know what you're so upset about."

"But they're not _my_ ship." 

Techno was a little taken aback at the genuine disappointment in Tommy's voice. He'd never heard anything other than sarcasm or annoyance from him. But he understood.

"I'll tell you what, if you give me your potatoes at dinner for a week, I'll bump it up on my priority list."

"You know- aw, come on, that's the best part!"

"Tommy, I'm trying to help you out, here."

Tommy finally registered the offer, and reluctantly agreed.

"Fine, but if you put a single dent in Clementine, I'll shove my blaster-"

"Clementine?"

"Yes, Clementine."

"You named your ship _Clementine_?"

"Wha- I- It's a nice name!" Not wanting Tommy to get defensive, Techno put up his hand.

"I'll find you at dinner. In the meantime, you should get to the Commander's office for your debriefing."

"Yeah, Watson's a bitch for time. 'Mind your watch', he says. We should call him _Watch_ son, aye? A bit up his own arse, if you ask me."

"Well, I didn't," Techno sat back down on the floor, reaching for the droid, "and don't be so harsh on Phil. He's not doing too bad."

"Oh, I've forgotten, you're on a first-name basis with _Commander_ Watson," Tommy's voice was spiked with sarcasm. "I still don't understand how that happened, by the way," the implied question didn't go over Techno's head.

"You're not getting that story, Tommy, I already told you."

"Aw, come on- you can't expect a guy not to be curious how a technician got so friendly with a commander."

"I said I'll see you at dinner, Tommy."

"Fine, dick."

Tommy jogged off without another word, not even a thank you. Techno set back to work, grabbing a soldering iron. He could hear Tommy's distant shouts and laughs as he made fun of some of his fellow pilots, and he had to suppress a small smile. Sure, he annoyed the crap out of him, but he was a good kid. He liked him. He liked him a lot.


End file.
